Siempre Cambiando

It's been a long few years and lots of crazy stuff has happened. We cannot begin to express the amount of gratitude we have to be able to travel again and return to some of the places we love. This bustling small city continues to grow and change before our very eyes. I say that each time we come here because it is true. This time it has been 4 long years since we have been here. Many of our favorite and familiar places are gone, replaced by new places that will probably be gone the next time we return. The juice man is gone, the corner market where we used to buy eggs, avocado and fruit is no longer there. Our favorite antojitos restaurant is no longer run by the same family. The tourist zone is creeping closer. It goes on and on and is filled with restaurants, bars, countless shops and hordes of tourists. It is almost possible to ignore it simply by walking different streets.

Countless apartment buildings are being built where homes for locals once sat. The new buildings are pushing the locals farther and farther from the central area. We no longer hear the colectivo man shouting as they have moved to a new location. We still find a few local cart or cargo king vendors with their bell or horn announcing they are on your street. Once in a while a car goes by with a megaphone announcing something. There is more traffic and more noise but here on the top floor patio or in the garden we can almost forget.

During the day the sun blazes hot overhead. If I sleep too late I miss my chance to have my morning coffee in the shade. In the small houses nestled behind our building dogs bark. We visit with other guests and talk about Mexico City or other places to feed our travel dreams. I go to Yin class at a yoga school twice a week. I zoom my regular yoga class once a week. Afternoons are spent at la playa. It is more crowded than we remember but we find a little spot, open our beach chairs and contemplate the waves.

In the evening, the sun lowers in the horizon and the night breeze is simply perfect. It is one of my favorite times of the day and I am always thankful. It’s the time of day the birds fly over head to roost in the trees nearby just before sunset. The evening breeze kicks in and the clouds move past. We have our evening comida on la terazza or at one of our nearby favorite restaurants. We steal time to chat with our friends that own the hotel where we stay and visit in the garden. We walk to the park when there is music and a market. We watch children playing and family time enjoyed by locals and visitors.

We will miss the beautiful water, the fresh sea air breezes, our friends and the ever changing neighborhood but we know we will return. We feel at home here and it has stolen a part of our hearts for too long. Hasta la proxima vex.

Somewhere Between Living and Dreaming

La Playa Caribbean, acrylic on canvas 18" x 24" - B.Steichen

Somewhere between living and dreaming, there is Mexico and it has been way too long since I have been here. I are not traveling around this time, just staying at our home away from home. I am dredged in a familiarity of simple routines, a walk, a shared meal on the patio, many memories from the past and the beautiful beautiful playa. I do as little or as much as I want here. It is a contemplative reset.  

La Playa is forever shimmering in countless shades of turquoise. The sun is warm upon our shoulders and the air is humid and sweet. Unending waves merging one into the next. Turquoise is my favorite color, the color of the Caribbean Sea. It is the color I see when I close my eyes. It is my conjured memory for meditation. It is pure magic.

On the patio outside our room, everyone is happy to have escaped from wherever they came from. They are happy, full of stories and laughter. The days perfectly blend one into the other. I revel in all that is my life, the work I have done to be able to be in this moment. I have so much gratitude for every second of it. I try not to count the time that turns weeks into days before I return home to get ready for the next adventure.

Every day is a journey and the journey itself is home. - Matsuo Basho

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La Terraza

It's so difficult to describe being in such a place, a bustling small city which continues to grow and change before our very eyes. Finding old remnants of this once sleepy fishing village are becoming more and more difficult to find. I am incredibly grateful to experience this place, taking time to explore and venture out into the neighborhood. It is here, away from the tourist zone that you see the real pulse and heart.

The people grilling arranchera from a street cart, a man on the corner with a small trailer full of simple wood furniture for sale, the colectivo driver taking a rest in the driver seat, a man chopping huge bags of onions at his corner antojitos stand, they are all part of the landscape. Countless taxis, colectivos, local buses and cars trying to drive far too fast on the crowded streets. This place has an odd sense of home perhaps because I have spent more time here than anywhere I else I have ever traveled to. The days pass by just as fast as my fleeting thoughts, the dreams of what this place used to be and of other new and far away places yet to see and experience.

The sun blazes hot overhead. It arrives early and if I sleep in, I miss my chance to hear the early morning bird calls. As the early morning moves into day, church bells play Cielito Lindo, a man yells out at the nearby colectivo stand, directing riders to head north or south. In the small houses nestled behind our building the dogs bark. We gather vegetables, bananas, and eggs from the corner tienda and purchase fresh juice from the humble juice man down the street. I grab fresh made to order salad from the restaurant across from the yoga school I attend. Later in the day we cook a meal in our room or we get tacos, para llevar from our favorite antojitos stand, visit our favorite Venezuelan restaurant, asian fusion or grab a Sinaloan spatchcock roasted chicken for our evening meal.

We steal time to chat with our friends that own the building where we stay, we talk about all the beautiful flowers they have added to the garden,. We talk about our projects they are working on and love of music, to listen, play and sing.

One year we witnessed a chachalaca's that hatched a pajaro bebé (baby bird) in a nest in the garden. We provided reports to each other, each day of sightings, of where it slept and were honored to watch it grow strong and independent. We are sad when we find it fluttered over the fence, into the property behind the building and fails to thrive after meeting the neighbor dog.

On the terraza or in the jardin, stories are exchanged with other travelers. There is talk about past travels, long hot bus rides in Belize, visiting Tikal in Guatemala, travels through the Yucatan Peninsula to Vallodolid, Merida and Chixulub. We tell stories of time spent in Campeche, Palenque and on to San Cristobal del las Casas.

We once we talked with a traveler who had met our friend at her cafe, way down at the bottom of Belize in Punta Gorda. We are joyous that they had eaten there and know exactly where the turn is for the gravel road to the drum school that we walked down every day to get to town.

We listen to stories of travels in Nicaragua, Guatemala, Honduras, Dominican Republic, Cuba and Costa Rica. We talk to people about their favorite places in South East Asia and Europe. We hear plans of travels to come and take notes to feed our dreams. We say goodbye to people departing for home or travels and wish them safe journeys. In the evening, the sun lowers in the horizon and the night breeze is simply perfect. It is one of my favorite times of the day and I am always thankful. It’s the time of day the birds fly over head to roost in the trees nearby.

On the terraza, I revel in all that is my life, the work I have done to be able to travel and am grateful for every second of it. I wonder if my friends back home have forgotten my laugh. I try not to count the months, that turn into weeks, that turn into days, before I return home for a time and then on to the next adventure.

Every day is a journey and the journey itself is home. - Matsuo Basho

* Some of this content was originally published in 2015

Bougainvillea Everywhere - Playa del Carmen, Mexico 2015

I dreamed about you last night. You were as beautiful as ever, exactly how I remember you with your amazing hair, your smile and your stare. Most always talking hopeful and positive while your life seemed from my view to crumble around you. Forever young indeed and always strikingly gorgeous. You only looked different to me because your usual sun soaked skin was white as milk. You were sitting in a tower of a building that had a thatched roof, and you were looking down at me from a window. 

Someone came to me to tell me that you wanted to see me. I'm not sure who it was. I climbed some stairs up to where you were sitting. I felt as though you had something important to say. I grabbed your milk white hand and your skin felt cold as ice. We walked quietly along the beach together. I asked you if you were really dead and you simply said yes. I saw all your children waving to us. We walked a little more turning on to a beautiful cobble stone path that led us through the shade, away from the blazing sun of the beach. We passed old, lovely trees and there was bougainvillea blooming everywhere.

I forgot to tell you, I miss you and that I loved you. Then you were gone. 

Let us be grateful to people who make us happy, they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.

Marcel Proust

Crossing Tabasco - Chiapas Mexico - 2016

Crossing Tabasco to Chiapas by bus after visiting the Mayan Ruins at the Palenque National Park Archeological Site and the waterfalls of Agua Azul and Misol Ha is not a fast ride.

We slowly, slowly make our way to the town of San Cristóbal de las Casas which is located in the Central Highlands region of the Mexican state of Chiapas. As much as I had read, before we left I hadn't realized how the roads were laid out. Our trip into Chiapas took us through Tabasco heading west towards the city of Tuxtla Guetierez and then back inland to San Critstóbal.

The day is long, the drive is long and the narrow road winds back and forth through mountainous terrain. When you look out the window you see a long way down. I remind myself that the driver does not want to die as he passes double trailer-ed semi trucks at speeds I am not comfortable with on these roads. I just know this is not where I am going to die.

We stop in, I don't know where and everyone is told to get off the bus. My husband decides it is a most excellent time to use the bus bathroom. The driver thinks he has gotten everyone off the bus and unaware he proceeds to back the bus out of its boarding stall and over to fill it with gasoline. I along with about 10 other non-Mexican travelers are wondering what the hell is going on. All we know is that the bus driver said "diez minutos". My confidence wanes when I no longer recognize anyone. I'm a little worried my translation skills have failed me. I felt fairly certain the bus would return because everyone's packs and luggage were still on board. Then bay 10 filled with colectivos but I hovered anyway. The young French guy with the man bun comes to tell me that my husband is on the bus, which I already knew. I stand around anxiously for about 10 minutes and the bus returns to bay 9, which is close enough for me.

We keep making our way ever so slowly along winding, narrow roads. The bus that was already an hour and a half late when we got on it, is taking a lot longer than we had been told for it to reach our destination. It is not the drivers fault, these roads are crazy. Everyone is tired. After 8 hours or so, we arrive in San Cristóbal, at the bus station. It is colder than expected and dark. The town is much larger than imagined. Fortunately there were helpful people at the bus station who pointed us in the right direction for our lodging. We think we are grateful we have already booked a room for our entire stay, but that is another story. A story that involved a few emails to the booking site.

San Cristóbal sits in a small valley surrounded by mountains. The architecture is colonial with red tiled roofs and cobblestone streets. It is very picturesque. A walk outside the tourists streets will provide an opportunity to see a community rich in history, culture with a strong indigenous population. A short walk from the center shows you the poverty of the locals. We are walking ATM's to the people who live here although we will be spending very little money as we travel. Women are everywhere carrying heavy loads of woven shawls and trinkets to purchase. Along the edge of town you can gaze out onto nearby farmland, see people working the dry land and witness the impact of deforestation.  

It wasn't just the Zapatista that rallied and fought for a better life. We had two rather grim hostel experiences here in our first couple of days. The first place had some pretty glowing reviews and I had booked it for 6 nights. Lesson learned. We discover it is filled with artists who are living there and that is the good part. There were several mural projects going on and I enjoyed seeing people happily making art. The place is was kind of a mess. It was hard to look past the overflowing garbage, really dirty kitchen and saggy old furniture. I tried to ignore my first impressions but reality won out. Our room was stinky with sewer gas which we hadn't noticed at first. They had no other room to move us to.

That evening, we head out to visit another hostel run by a guy who helped us with directions earlier in the day. He shows us the three private rooms with shared bath and we pay him ahead for the next night to hold one of the rooms. We eat dinner and return to stinkyville. We close the bathroom door to let the sewer gas vent out the bathroom window and sleep with our room window cracked open even though the air is cool. Sleeping sucks for a variety of reasons and I am up at 6 am ready to check out. Fernando who was really very very nice, asks how we slept and I said not too well. We cancel our remaining days and head to the next place.

We are filled with new hope and go to our new room at the other hostel down the street. We think it is cleaner and the room much better. It has a view of the surrounding hills and we can see some impressive red tiled roofs. The kitchen area while a bit shabby is not nearly as bad as the other place. The bed is another story but we don't find out until later when we try to sleep. 

Up early again to problem solve and we head down the street to check out a couple of hotels. We settle on one that is new, super clean friendly and has new beds. There is no one there which is strange. We are happy with our courtyard view sitting area and clean surroundings. It's cold but we have a wool blanket and layers of clothes to keep us warm. It is raining on and off and the night air is cool.

Back in Palenque town, one of our credit cards got compromised after I used it at a restaurant. A gentle reminder in Mexico where we usually use only cash. Fortunately I was able to report it right away but that resulted in the card getting canceled. I had recently purchased airline tickets with that card to fly us out of Tuxtla Guetierez instead of riding a bus for 18 hours back to Playa del Carmen. With the airport two hours away and the compromised credit card we thought we best just keep with the plan and not try to change of flights.

We waited out our time in San Cristóbal de las Casas cold as we were and made the most of a bad situation. I am so happy we made this journey, even with some minor disappointments. Yes we were cold and missed the Caribbean Sea but we got to see a place where I treasure the handwork done by the local women.

Many lessons learned. 

• Do not take photos of local market stalls as there is nothing worse than getting yelled at by a very old woman.
• Never eat chile rellenos in combination with a fruit smoothie. I know I said, "No leche por favor". It tasted really good but my belly blew up and my stomach turns still, just thinking about it.
• Never go where it is very cold with only one pair of leggings and a sweatshirt. 
• You can never take too many pictures of Volkswagons.

Welcome Back - Playa del Carmen, Mexico

It's no secret that I am not a fan of cold weather. We have diligently planned our winter get-a-ways to spend just the right amount of time in the cold north to realize how fortunate we are to escape. 

At 3 am, we shut the door behind us, lock it and ride off in the middle of the night, with our Uber driver.  We are just one travel day away from our room #5. We are amazingly calm and more than ready to leave the gray days with no sunshine and the freezing temperatures of Minnesota behind .

We land at our destination, it is warm and there is endless sunshine. We breath in the warm and humid air and I feel my hair start to curl immediately. We make our way past what seems like a million taxi drivers and colectivo hawkers to our busy ADO bus bay #144. It's a 40 minute bus ride to our destination and I want to cheer out loud when I see the bus pull into the parking bay. I watch the already sinking sun from my bus window. The sky turns darker, just as it was so many hours ago, when we caught that early morning ride, from our frozen home in the north.

Our bus exits the 307 highway at Playa del Carmen and begins to wind through the town streets. We step out into the familiar and make our way through the vendors calling out to us to buy from their puestas. We smile respectfully and say "no gracias" repeatedly as we will until the end of our time here. I imagine the vendors are welcoming us back to this place of perfect sunshine, temperature and simplicity. Where days merge one into the next, where we can observe the lives of local workers and international travelers. We have barely a care in the world. Time stands relatively still except for the movement of the sun and moon. We revel in how simple life can be, happy for the choices we have made along the way and gratitude always for all the opportunities that led us to this moment.